Do No Harm (Low Chaos)
by Samuel Keller
Summary: As a doctor, one must be prepared to make personal sacrifices for one's work. Long hours, strenuous research, and emotional turmoil are part and parcel of a doctor's lifestyle, and many are unable to endure such things. It is only natural that only the greatest of doctors embrace such tenets instead of hiding from them.
1. Chapter 1: They Needed Me

**PLEASE DISREGARD THIS MESSAGE IF YOU HAVE READ THE HIGH CHAOS VERSION OF THIS STORY FIRST!**

 **Hello fans and newcomers alike! It's been a while since I've written anything on this site, but Dishonored 2 sparked a flame in my imagination and gave me a killer idea for this story, writing about one character but from two perspectives (Low Chaos and High Chaos). You do not HAVE to read both versions if you want, but there may be some narrative holes later on as the story expands and the two paths diverge (at least as far as I have planned). But you do you, I can't tell you how to read my story. If you like it, please drop a review to tell me what you liked. If you didn't like it, again please drop a review to tell me what I can fix, I'm more than happy to take criticism.**

 **Anyway, let's get going.**

* * *

Nikon Luka stretched his white gloves down his right hand, snapping it into place and strapping it around his forearm. He adjusted the mask over his mouth and nose, smacking his lips together at the smell of antiseptic on his gloves.

"Goddamn it Doc, hurry up!" roared one of the guardsmen, holding down the injured man on the medical cot. The man, a victim of a local's gang attack, was screaming in pain and holding his bloody right hand with bits of grenade shrapnel embedded in the skin.

"This is going to hurt," snapped Nikon calmly. "You may want to watch out for his punches and kicks."

"Hold him down!" ordered the first guardsman, a captain, the other two grabbing their injured companion and keeping his limbs restrained.

The doctor grabbed a pair of tweezers from its jar of alcohol, shaking off the liquid.

He began to remove the shrapnel from the guard's hand, the man shouting in agony as each piece was removed. Then he stopped, one large chunk in the man's palm giving him trouble.

"Shit, it's stuck in the bone," murmured the doctor. "Reaffirm your grip."

He yanked out the chunk of metal, the man screaming for a solid five seconds as the guards stared in horror at the size of the piece he had pulled out.

"Damn, that's the size of a coin," grunted the guard captain.

"This was a handmade grenade," noted Nikon. "Let's just be lucky that it really wasn't a coin."

He grabbed the man's hand, grasping the jar of antiseptic. "Okay, this is actually going to hurt. But I have to make sure there's no tetanus."

"Wait, wait!" roared the man on the cot, rapidly fiddling with his hip belt. He grabbed his flask, holding it up to one of the men holding him. "Open this. I need a drink."

"Sure."

The man opened up the flask, the injured man gulping down several mouthfuls of cheap liquor. "Okay, do it."

Nikon poured the alcohol over the wounded hand, the man letting out a cry far removed from that of a human, that of a wounded animal. He thrashed and struggled against his cohorts, eyes rolling in his head and limbs convulsing.

The doctor slammed his hand down onto a metal tray, turning to the guard captain. "Hold his arm."

The captain nodded, Nikon beginning to sew the puncture wounds shut as carefully as he could. The man's fingers kept moving as the pain from the antiseptic wormed through his wounds, and made it incredibly difficult to sew them shut.

"Will this affect his hand?" asked the captain.

"Most likely, unfortunately," admitted Nikon. "I just yanked out eleven bits of metal, most of which are as large as fingernails. He will have decreased motility in his hand no matter what, though his reaction to the antiseptic means he still has feeling in it."

He finished the job, leaning back and wiping his sweaty brow. "Okay, I'm going to wrap it so he doesn't pull the stitches out. That'll only be for a few days. Assuming it heals alright, he should be able to have the stitches removed in about a week."

The captain grunted. "Lucky bastard. You're still going on patrol duty after the bandages are removed."

"I would advise against such a thing," spoke Nikon. "However, if you still want him to work, perhaps some secretarial tasks or even low-danger patrols. I don't want him back in my medical bay because his stitches busted open. I see it as a waste of both your time and mine."

"Fair enough," murmured the captain. He pointed to his injured underling. "Get better, and if you bust open those stitches I'm going to come here and break your jaw."

The man nodded, paling slightly in fear. "Yes, captain."

One of the guardsmen glanced at the doctor, smiling softly. "Hey Doc, want to get a drink with us?"

"Sorry, but I must decline," stated the doctor winding bandages around the man's stitched hand. "It makes it harder for me to work."

"Good man," spoke the captain approvingly. "Too many of my men seem fond of poisoning their minds and dulling their senses."

"Well sir, you usually join us," argued one of the two guardsmen.

The captain waved the comment away. "I never drink to excess. Now why are we standing around here? We have work to get back to, to find those damned ingrates who hurt our comrade."

"Yes sir!"

They rushed off, leaving Nikon alone with the injured man, who was feeling a bit better with the booze in his system. He glanced at the jars of alcohol, curiously watching the doctor. "Hey Doc."

"Yes?"

"What's with this stuff? Smells terrible."

Nikon smirked, stripping off his gloves and mask. "Agreed, but it's necessary to make sure you don't get an infection. A lot of doctors usually use boiling water to clean their instruments and such, which works well enough, but I prefer the original antiseptic of alcohol."

"Anti-what?"

"Antiseptic. It kills the microorganisms that cause diseases and infections. And to think, barely half a century ago, we used to think such things were nonsense, and that maladies were caused by bad air called miasma!"

The guard looked at him quizzically. "Did you discover this?"

"Oh goodness no! I am no medical Sokolov or Jindosh! Piero Joplin discovered these microorganisms, and this was crucial for ending the rat plaque. Boiling water, alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, iodine…all of them work really, but alcohol was the first."

The man paled, imaging the doctor having to pour boiling water over his wounds instead of simply alcohol.

Nikon made sure the man was comfortable before he left, walking down the halls of the medical clinic with calm deliberate steps. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, blowing out a cloud of smoke in front of him.

"Well, might as well get back to work," grunted the doctor, moving up a nearby set of stairs. He admired the décor of his client, the council member Kuznetsov, and whistled at each impressive work of art.

"Huh, another Anna Moskva…I love the color of this piece."

He reached the research laboratory, opening the door and smiling pleasantly at his assistant. "Hello Diana. How goes the research?"

Diana looked up, glaring at him through her glasses, and brushed a strand of golden hair out of her face. "Doctor! Where have you been?! It's been three hours!"

Nikon blushed, smiling sheepishly. "They needed me down in the medical bay. They're always short-staffed."

She shook her head. "Honestly…you and your bleeding heart are going to work yourself to death. We need you up here."

The doctor sighed, sitting down beside her. "You aren't wrong. Now, how goes it?"

Diana poked one of the glass cases. "Unsuccessful. So far, only Subjects 12b, 27a, and 46b remain alive. Of those three, only Subject 46b shows no symptoms."

She glanced at him skeptically. "Truthfully, transplanting anything besides skin is proving unsuccessful. We simply have no way to determine which subjects can transplant organs into others at the moment. At least with skin, we can make the same subject give and receive the same organ so they don't reject it."

Nikon nodded, stroking his chin. "Hmm…and we still have no way to determine why subjects are rejecting each other's organs. The best batch of subjects we had were from twin rats, and even that one had a failure rate of fifty percent."

He walked over to one of the microscopes, studying the slide of rat blood smeared on the glass. "Hmm…no discernable differences between specimens of even radically different species. It has to be blood that determines how unique a creature is, and yet it looks virtually identical to another…"

He tapped the glass, mulling over his options. "Joplin and Sokolov determined that blood carries certain microorganisms that help fight diseases…"

Suddenly he perked up. "Diana, what are the symptoms of organ rejection?"

Diana flipped through her notes. "Fever, flu-like symptoms, swelling around the site of the transplant, and less urination."

"Hmm…it sounds just like an infection. Maybe the body is seeing these new organs as hostile forces, and it's attacking it like it would an infection."

"That's certainly a valid theory doctor, but that doesn't do us much good."

Nikon nodded. "Fair enough. But maybe…"

He picked up his copy of Joplin's book, _Killing the Rat Plague_ , flipping through to one of the bookmarks he set. "Joplin mentions that each person has a relatively unique combination of these microorganisms, but he never went into classifying them. He tried to use these microorganisms to fight the plaque, but found it inefficient."

He then grabbed Sokolov's book, _Enhanced Neutralization and Elimination of the Rat Plague by Organic Vectors_ , and turned to a similar page. "Sokolov did something similar, and found the reason this was ineffective was that humans and rats have inherently different microorganisms that appeared to be incompatible. But…"

Nikon tapped the page, smiling. "Yes! He doesn't mention a test, but he does state that these microorganisms appear to be genetic!"

Diana grinned, suddenly catching onto his logic. "So, if we use relatives, we will significantly increase the odds of successful implants!"

Nikon let out a victorious shout, grabbing a clipboard and paper. "Okay, we need to request for new rats. Average rat litter is about 5 viable baby rats, so I'd say we need at least ten pairs, male and female, to assume at least fifty rats, disregarding the parents. This is exhilarating! I feel we are making real progress!"

He paused, noting an odd noise from outside. "Huh? Diana, what is going on out there?"

The assistant moved over to the window, glancing outside. "Hmm, looks like Secretary Kalin's men are visiting today. Weird, why would he be visiting council member Kuznetsov?"

"Secretary Kalin?" repeated Nikon, citing the unofficial lead High Judge of Tyvia. "Is he present as well?"

"No, just his captain of the guard. Weird, there's quite a number of them…and they have weapons…"

A sharp noise snapped through the air, Nikon immediately standing up. He knew that sound anywhere.

"A gunshot!" he shouted. "Get away from the window!"

He grabbed Diana and moved under the table, the assistant beginning to panic.

"What?!" she yelled. "What's going on?! Whose shooting who?"

"No idea, but we have to get out of here!" he replied just as scared.

Suddenly the window in the lab shattered, a metal canister hitting next to them.

"Gas! Take a deep breath, Diana!" ordered Nikon slamming a handkerchief over his nose and mouth.

The canister detonated, releasing jets of white gas that filled the room in seconds. It did not burn the skin like mustard gas, but Nikon knew its true function was to knock them unconscious with a few breaths.

Nikon pointed to the door, pulling/leading his assistant towards it as quickly as he could. He knew he had two minutes at best due to moving at such a pace, and then he would have to breathe or pass out.

Suddenly the door barged open, a solider entering. He was one of Kalin's men, wearing the signature uniform and a gas mask. More importantly, he was carrying a pistol and sword.

"Stay down!" shouted the man, pointing his pistol at the doctor.

Nikon ducked down and nailed the man clean in the crotch, knocking the wind clean out of his body and causing him to let loose a shot from the pistol, shattering one of the glass cases on the table. Diana let out a cry and quickly sealed her mouth once again, though she did inhale a bit of the gas.

The doctor punched the man in the throat next, grabbing his scarf with both hands and yanking him clean to the ground. Reaching onto the table, he grabbed an encyclopedia of medical terminology and slammed it into the man's head repeatedly, until he finally stopped moving and grunting.

Nikon hurriedly ripped the man's gas mask off and pressed it into his face, breathing in a deep gust of air before handing it over to Diana to let her breathe.

After a few cycles of catching their breath, Nikon placed it over his face and spoke. "Diana, we have to get moving. If you begin to lose your breath, tap my shoulder twice."

The assistant nodded, stepping carefully over the unconscious guard. Nikon grabbed the man's pistol and sword, handing the gun to the assistant. "Please aim for the legs. I dislike violence, but especially killing."

"Now is not the time for sentiment, doctor," argued Diana.

"I won't compromise my beliefs for convenience," snapped Nikon, in a voice that granted no argument.

They moved down the hallway, noting that several bodies were already collapsing against the floor from the gas. They were right next to two guards currently shooting downed bodies, going through them execution style.

One of them looked up, eyes widening behind his mask. "Oh shit! Someone's still up!"

Diana fired the pistol, hitting the guard right in the stomach and slamming him into a nearby table. Nikon charged the second, knocking his sword out of his hand and stabbing his right upper arm into the wall behind him.

"Fucking asshole!" shouted the second guard, grasping at the sword and trying to remove it.

Nikon ripped the gas mask off the man, pinching his nose shut and punching him in the stomach to make him reflexively breathe in. He strapped it onto his face, walking over the first guard and glaring at Diana.

"Legs?" he asked simply.

She shrugged apathetically. "I'm a bad shot. He's not dead, is he?"

"You bitch!" shouted the guard, holding his hands over his bloody stomach.

Nikon ripped his gas mask off too, grabbing the table and placing it over the man's stomach. "Well, it's no tourniquet, but it'll do. Hopefully he won't bleed out."

He armed himself, trying to think of a way out of the building. "They got the stairs covered, assuming they really are military…what's the nearest building?"

"The guard barracks for Kuznetsov," stated Diana. "They're probably there too."

"Any other buildings?"

"…there's a recently condemned building to the east. They probably aren't there, or have just enough to cover any potential escapees."

"How far?"

"There's a ten-foot gap."

Nikon sighed. "I knew I should've eaten some bananas today. This is going to hurt."

They stopped, hearing footsteps approaching. They ducked down a hallway, approaching the east side of the building. Out of a nearby window, they could see the condemned building, its windows barricaded shut with loose boards. Anyone could smash through them if determined.

"The roof," stated Nikon. "We can make the jump from there."

"The ladder's that way," spoke Diana pointing to where the footsteps were coming from.

"Shit. There's no way we're getting past."

Diana looked at him, then at the floor, then back at him. "Not both of us."

He paused. "What do you…? No, that's crazy."

"Why? Remember that first soldier? He ordered us to stay down. He didn't shoot us. They want us alive."

"Diana, what possible use would they have for us? They shot everyone else."

Diana rolled her eyes. "Idiot! You're Doctor Nikon Luca, private physician to council member Kuznetsov! Everyone knows about your research! You may not be the next Jindosh or Sokolov, but you are valuable. They won't kill me either."

She held up her lab coat. "I'm your assistant, after all. If they want your notes to be of any use, they'll need at least one of us."

"Yes, but you're…I mean you're a…and I'm a…"

She sighed. "Doctor, get to the roof. I will distract them."

Nikon tightened his fists, but nodded. "Of course. As long as you promise me you'll stay alive."

Diana smiled despite herself. "Yes doctor. Same to you."

She then sprinted down the hall towards the ladder, smashing glass mirrors and cabinets in her way. "Hey! I'm over here! Hey!"

The guards patrolling around the ladder heard the commotion and chased after her, Diana firing back at them with her gun but not hitting them.

As soon as they were out of sight, Nikon ran to the ladder, scampering up it onto the roof. "Damn it Diana…I promise…I'll find you somehow. You're far too precious to me to just forget about…"

He looked out towards the east, noting that there was a blocked window with only a scarce number of boards holding it up. He predicted that if he hit the window at full force, he would likely go straight through it.

"Okay, let's do this," he whispered to himself, collecting his breath. "Gotta save the girl, but first I gotta cross this gap. Okay…let's roll."

He sprinted across the roof, pumping his legs as hard as he could. He mentally foresaw the jump, knowing that his right foot would hit the edge of the roof and need to launch him off with full strength. He saw himself duck in and cover his head and torso as he slammed into the wood, shards flying around him.

Nikon jumped off the roof.

He slammed into the wooden boards, but unbeknownst to him, some of the glass in the window had remained. It was not enough to cause a loud shattering effect, but a few shards were large enough to slash into his clothes, one in particular cutting clean through his right calf and shredding it.

Nikon tumbled inelegantly into what was once a living room, slamming into a dining table and groaning with pain. He grasped at his bleeding leg, determining that it wasn't immediately lethal but could prove so given sufficient time.

"Goddamn it, I'm not a fucking acrobat," he grunted untying the belt from his waist and tying it around above his knee. It ran down the outer side of his right calf from around his kneecap all the way close to the ankle, and he would not be able to seal it up right now.

Suddenly the door of the living room burst open, Nikon leveling his pistol at the door.

The two men standing there did the same, pausing when they saw his attire.

"…who the fuck are you?" asked the first one, a woman with fiery red hair.

"Doctor Nikon Luca…private physician to Kuznetsov…" spoke Nikon through gritted teeth, the pain in his leg only getting worse. He began to realize that it was likely chunks of glass were inside the wound, worming itself deeper as he tried to move.

The two shared looks for a moment.

"You ain't one of those guys attacking, that's for damn sure," noted the male of the two, walking over to him. "Shit, you're bleeding. We need to get you to a doc."

"I am a doctor!" snapped Nikon angrily, screwing his eyes shut from the pain. "Goddamn it, this hurts! We need to get moving! My assistant…she's…!"

He tried to stand, but the woman stopped him and grabbed his arm. "Easy there, tough guy. That's a bad cut. We can take you to our hideout. Won't do your assistant any good if you bleed to death."

They got Nikon to his feet, the doctor shouting out in pain as his leg got worse.

"Keep it down! They don't know we're in here!" snapped the woman.

"I doubt that," grunted the doctor, limping as best he could along with the other two. "They're looking for me…my research is…"

"Later doc," grunted the man, his large knife pointing forward into the darkness of the abandoned building. "We got to get to the tunnels. They can't follow us in there."

"The tunnels?" asked Nikon. "Who are you people?"

"We like to think of ourselves as…revolutionaries," spoke the woman cryptically. "We'll explain later if you want, but right now we can't afford any wasted time. Come on."

Nikon's vision began to darken, the doctor collapsing against a nearby wall.

"Oh fuck, he's really bleeding bad!" spoke the man in a panic.

"Doc, hold on!" ordered the woman, hoisting him by the arm. "You're the only guy to walk out of that building, you ain't dying on me! Doc, do you hear me? Doc!"


	2. Chapter 2: I'm Not a Soldier

Nikon woke up and immediately wished he hadn't.

He grabbed his leg as he felt the aches in it, noting that it had been wrapped in old bandages that appeared to have been washed and recycled continuously.

"Crap, hope I don't get infected," he grunted rubbing the sore spot, making sure not to rub against what felt like stitches along the cut.

He paused to look around the room, noting how it was dark save for a lantern on the wall. The room appeared to be in someone's basement, as judging by the hardened concrete walls, and it looked abandoned. There was debris everywhere, ranging from smashed wood to empty bottles, and it seemed more a ruin than an infirmary.

"Good Lord Nikon, what have you gotten yourself into?" whispered the doctor.

He stood up as best he could, noticing how someone had left him a cane to walk on. Next to it was a note, written in a decidedly unruly manner.

"When you wake up, head upstairs."

He set the note down, grabbing the cane and dreading carefully to the nearby door. It was the only door in the room, and it seemed a good starting point.

Nikon then realized that the room was pleasantly warm, a fact that surprised him. He listened intently, hearing the signature sighs and bellows of a whale oil furnace. Obviously this building was not completely abandoned.

He opened the door, noting a long hallway before him with a staircase at the end. The hall was lit by a few spare candles on wall-mounted sconces, though most looked homemade or recycled. He glanced at the other doors down the hall, each one marked with various words.

"Whale oil, armory, cleaning…" he read off, realizing that these must be designations for what each room contained. He glanced at his own door, noting the word Recovery etched into it. "Huh, a sick bay. Glad to see I'm the only one in it."

He reached the furnace at the end of the hall next to the stairs, a few spare tanks of whale oil nearby. It hummed and churned as it worked, pumping fresh heat into the home through pipes in the walls.

Nikon walked up the stairs carefully, each step a journey as he did his best not to put too much pressure on his injured leg. He gritted his teeth in agony as he reached a small landing around the middle of the staircase, the door to the first floor in sight.

"I am Doctor Nikon Luca, private physician to council member Kuznetsov…" he grunted to himself, taking in several deep breathes. "And I am not going to be defeated by a bunch of fucking stairs."

He struggled his way up the remaining stairs, gathering himself before opening the door. He had no idea what to expect past that old wooden frame, and so readied himself for anything.

He opened the door.

"Beg pardon, sir!"

Nikon barely avoided a bumbling bus boy moving past him carrying several trays of dirty dishes, the boy moving with lightning speed past him. Suddenly the noise of the room hit him like a truck, dozens of conversations flooding through his brain as he saw how large and full the room was, apparently having stepped into some kind of dining hall.

Counters and tables were full of patrons partaking in a breakfast meal, most enjoying a cup of pear wine with baked bread and fresh butter to go along with it. A choice few partook in some freshly caught fish grilled over a flame, picking the delicacy apart with their bare hands and dipping it in red sauce. The patrons themselves seemed to come from all walks of life, from nobles to nobodies, and each sat by another without complaint.

One particular man glanced at Nikon and stood, brushing down the front of his shirt of crumbs. The man was remarkably tall for a Tyvian, as was evidenced by dark hair and pale skin, and seemed to tower over those around him not only in height but charisma as well. His eyes in particular were fascinating, a light blue color reminiscent of ice that seemed to burn as they glanced at the doctor.

He moved over to Nikon, offering a small smile and shaking the man's hand. "Doctor Nikon Luca, a pleasure. I trust your leg is healing alright?"

Nikon wasn't so sure he could trust this man so quickly, but decided it would be best to be diplomatic. "Yes, it is. Tell me, where am I? Who are you? Why was I brought here?"

The man chuckled, as if he cracked a joke. "In time, doctor, in time. Before that however, please, have something to eat. It's not every day you cheat death, after all."

Nikon grew annoyed at the man's coyness, though he shrugged it off just as quickly. He was hungry, and he could probably coerce the man into giving away some details over breakfast.

"Fine by me," stated the doctor rubbing his stomach. "I feel famished."

The man grinned, waving at one of the people at the nearby bar. "Alexandra! A plate of breakfast for the good doctor!"

Nikon sat down at a table with four other men and this blue-eyed stranger, each of them dressed rather strangely. The first, the only woman, was dressed in an elegant black business suit with purple accents and seemed to have an aura of seduction about her, with her professionally-done makeup and small wink to the doctor as he sat. The second was a massive man clearly of Morleyan descent, his blond hair shaved short in a military-style haircut and his chest wrapped in a furry overcoat. The third barely seemed to look like a person at all, almost all of their body wrapped in bandages and dark brown rags akin to beggar cloth. The fourth was the most outlandishly dressed, wearing a fancy nobleman's coat with golden tassels and a golden mask over his face like those worn at masquerade parties, his in the design of a bird of prey.

"Nikon, these are my associates," spoke the blue-eyed stranger pleasantly as the same bus boy from earlier set down Nikon's plate of breakfast. "The lovely young lady is Miss Gretzky, the large fellow is Irving Boyd, the one in rags is Shrike, and the nobleman is Lord Alexey Urarov."

Nikon recognized that last one. He looked at Alexey, biting into a bit of bread as he did so. "Alexey Urarov? You tried to become a council member last year, if I recall."

"Yes, and failed by a rather wide margin," grunted the noble, stroking the beak of his mask. "Turns out they'd rather see that corrupt Menshikov in my place instead."

The blue-eyed stranger smiled. "Well, probably for the best then, as it led to meeting me. When all this is over my friend, you shall be a Secretary."

"I thought I was to be a Secretary," teased Miss Gretzky with a flirtatious smile.

"Oh but of course, my fine lady," spoke the blue-eyed stranger, words rolling off his tongue like honey. "I'd never deny you your rightful place."

Irving grunted but said nothing, downing the last few sips of his drink. From the look of it, he was drinking mead instead of wine, likely from his homeland.

Shrike glanced at the doctor, revealing that even their eyes were covered by a set of snow goggles. Their jaw didn't seem to move when they spoke either, as if they were communicating through an audiograph strapped to their face. In particular, Shrike's voice seemed especially high, like that of a child, and was hard to determine their gender through it. "Doctor, how did you sleep?"

"Unconsciously," jested Nikon smiling, biting into a fresh pear. "My leg hurts like nothing else, but I am doing well."

Suddenly he remembered a detail about his escape, one that hadn't come to mind previously. "Those two who rescued me, are they…?"

"Not presently here, doctor," spoke Irving bluntly, his accent thick and slurring some of his words, causing his r's to roll most notably. "I sent them off."

"They work for you?" asked Nikon curiously. He hadn't remembered either of the people rescuing him to be Morleyan or speaking in a Morleyan accent.

"Technically for me," argued the blue-eyed stranger. "Irving oversees most of our forces, however, so he is their direct superior. Good thing we had them scouting in that building too, lest we would've lost a key witness to another of the High Judge's actions."

He folded his hands up and set them on the table, a look of extreme focus appearing on his face. "Which gets us to why we rescued you, one of your first questions. We rescued you because we need to know what happened at Kuznetsov's manner. Do not spare any details, no matter how minor. Any suspicions of such an attack happening, any warning signs, things like that. If you describe it, I will answer your other two questions."

People began to clear out of the bar, and Nikon began to delve into the story. He started at the point when he saw Kalin's men approach the manor and finished right when he blacked out, making sure to go into as much depth as possible. He was only interrupted by Irving, to ask about the supplies brought by Kalin's men to assault the manor, and by Shrike, who questioned his hypothesis that Kalin's men were trying to capture him or Diana.

"They seemed like they wanted to capture me, anyway," argued Nikon shrugging. "No idea why. My research isn't that revolutionary."

"I've heard about it," spoke Miss Gretzky. "Organ transplants, fascinating stuff. Perhaps a whole new wave of scientific advancement can come from it."

"Assuming that Liang Yu doesn't figure out prosthetic organs first," argued Irving. "Heard he finally started making prosthetics for whole arms and legs, just as good as the originals. You can't feel anything with them of course, but they move and grab things."

"Ah, Liang Yu," reminisced Nikon. "Brilliant man, met him once at a social gathering. A bit aloof for my taste and had a nasty habit of talking about himself, but his research is revolutionary. A real shame his and mine might nullify the other's work."

The blue-eyed stranger frowned a bit, but did not comment.

Shrike leaned forward, tenting their fingers together. Nikon noticed that the ends of each finger was black, as if charred from fire, and the exposed bits of skin near the knuckles seemed to be suffering from some sort of chemical burn. "So they wanted to capture you for your information, and succeeded in capturing your assistant. Seems odd they were so interested in such a medical field."

Irving waved the comment away. "Whatever. Let's tell him now."

"Tell me what?" asked Nikon curiously, though he was sure he knew the answer.

"The answer to the other two questions," replied the blue-eyed stranger. He sighed. "I guess I owe you anyway."

He tapped the bar table. "Where you are, is the White Stallion Inn on the west side of town, just within the city limits but far enough to not attract attention. This is our base of operations for the time being, until we find a better location."

He pointed to the people at the table. "These people are my loyal followers, men and women who believe in my cause and wish to see my vision of the future come true."

He pointed to himself. "I am Prince Kallisar of Tyvia, rightful ruler of this island."

Nikon paused, digesting that nugget of information. He knew of Kallisar, everyone did really. He was the most vocal of the old Princes from before the island became a democratic republic, and easily the most troublesome in terms of stirring up discontent. He also had the greatest amount of followers among the old Princes, and was spoken in almost myth-like undertones.

But most importantly, Prince Kallisar was the subject of a rather scandalous play known as the _Young Prince of Tyvia_ , a play where he engaged in heated sexual relations with various members of nobility from abroad, most notably Lord Nathan Bayle of Gristol, written during his height of power. Nikon had seen the play in person, and realized that the blue-eyed stranger did resemble the costumed performer he had seen that night.

Nikon blushed crimson, sipping his pear soda. "Oh? That's interesting."

Kallisar raised an eyebrow, as if he could see into his brain and determine exactly what he was thinking about, but continued regardless. "Not exactly the response I usually get. I guess you typically don't get involved with politics."

Nikon shrugged, pinching off a chunk of bread. "You saved my life, that's the important thing. And since I appear to be a wanted man, I am most likely broke. So now the important thing to discuss is how to repay your kindness."

Irving smirked, clearly pleased by the doctor's comment. "Respectful, a man who doesn't take things for free."

Kallisar leaned back in his chair, tucking a hand under his chin as if to hold it. "And how do you think you can repay my kindness, doctor?"

Nikon pointed to himself. "Well, I am a doctor, as you have mentioned. I am certainly the most qualified person in this building to perform any sort of medical procedures. Last I heard, revolutions typically involve a lot of injury. I don't have any of my gear, but I'm sure we can secure some substitutes if needs arise."

Shrike nodded. "Yeah, I can get my boys on it if you need anything, doc, but I think we have other plans."

Kallisar nodded, glancing at the doctor. "Dr. Nikon, we require your assistance, and not in the medical sense. We require good men such as yourself for our operations, and we'd be more than happy to accept your assistance as payment."

Nikon glanced at him with raised eyebrows. "I hope you do not mean combat. I'm hardly a soldier or assassin. I'm a doctor."

"You weren't always," interrupted Shrike, their voice low. "I remember you. Petty thief, last I recall. You were pretty good too."

Nikon turned to him, glaring at him intensely. "I am no vagabond. I did it to survive, nothing more."

"Lots of thieves are like that," grunted Irving. "Most I know, anyway. They don't exactly do it for the fun. What made you quit?"

"I got a job," snapped the doctor.

Shrike clearly wanted to continue, but said nothing more.

Kallisar smiled softly, though it was far from reassuring. "Well doctor, you and I actually have a shared goal. If you're interested, I will share it with you upstairs."

"Why not now?" asked the doctor.

"Too many eyes and ears. The less people know, the better. These fellows here understand that completely."

"Oh, but I am so curious," stated Miss Gretzky with an exaggerated sigh. She touched the doctor's arm, rubbing it slowly. "Tell me what secrets lay below that thick skin of yours, doctor. I promise to let you know plenty of what's below mine."

"Oh Lord, I'm going to vomit," grunted Lord Alexey rolling his eyes.

Nikon rubbed the bridge of his nose, clearly mulling it over. "…Kallisar…why did you specifically select me for whatever this task may be? What skills of mine are you interested in?"

Kallisar grinned, this verbal game clearly pleasing him. "Your wits are sharp, doctor. I chose you because you have a knack for getting into places you shouldn't be."

The doctor sat there for a moment, then made up his mind. "Fine. Tell me what this shared goal is, then."

Kallisar nodded, standing up. "If you excuse me comrades, I must go upstairs. Please make yourselves comfortable in my absence,"

"Oh, if we must," stated Miss Gretzky melodramatically, winking at the doctor. "Go have fun, little doctor."

"Don't take too long," grunted Irving. "I can only drink so much mead before I lose my edge."

The doctor and the prince walked upstairs, Kallisar helping Nikon up the steps when he began to lose balance.

"Well it appears this task will have to wait a bit anyway," spoke the prince smiling.

They reached a private office room clearly assembled by whatever supplies they had nearby. Kallisar sat at a desk made of two barrels with a piece of wood stretched between, tapping a piece of paper on it. It appeared to be some sort of building blueprint, various notes sketched onto it recently.

"This is the guard barracks of Secretary Kalin," explained Kallisar. "Inside is one of our top operatives, a certain Florentina Gavrilov. She was captured last night, and is likely being held for questioning. She will not break, so they will most likely kill her after a few days."

"A rescue operation?" asked Nikon skeptically. "I'm not a soldier, remember? I may have been a thief once, but I can hardly steal a person."

"We don't need you to rescue her," argued Kallisar. "Once you get inside and free her, we will mount a distraction attack on the nearby city square to give you ample opportunity to escape."

"I still fail to see how our goals are entwinned," spoke the doctor. "I can see how this benefits you, but hardly how it helps me."

"Technically there is two reasons this helps you. The first is repayment of our kindness. Florentina is the woman who rescued you. The second is entirely of your own self-interest."

Kallisar pointed to one of the basement rooms, one marked as a holding cell. "We have reason to believe they have placed your assistant Diana here for the time being. They likely have confiscated your notes there as well, if you wish to collect them."

Nikon glanced at the map, visualizing Diana captive within it and how helpless she likely felt. He was confident she would've attempted escape already, but there was hardly anything to be done.

"…I'm going to need some gear," stated the doctor calmly, feeling familiar cogs in his brain beginning to turn. "Preferably something that won't kill, if at all possible. I dislike needless killing."

Kallisar grinned, the proverbial mouse getting caught in a trap. "Of course, whatever you say. We will discuss the plan in greater detail when you heal. We will accelerate the process as much as possible, of course. I dislike losing useful people, especially those who have done so much for me."

He walked over to a small box in the corner, picking it up before placing it on the table. He removed the components inside the box, setting each one next to the other.

"Short sword, wristbow, stun mines, pistol, and our newest addition to our arsenal."

He held up two grenades, one dark black and cylinder-shaped while the other was dark green and circular. "The black one is chokedust, a compound we got from Gristol. It blinds and chokes people, giving you a few seconds to escape or try to fight back. This other one is blightpowder."

Nikon glanced at him skeptically. "Blightpowder? What does it do, carry the plague?"

"No, we're not that crazy," argued Kallisar. "It's a compound we derived from the same plant that sleep darts are laced with. This works in a dust-based gas form however, and works over a period of a few seconds. To compensate for the slower effect, we made the grenade incredibly large in its area of effect. If you set this off right now, it'd fill this entire room and we'd pass out in about five seconds."

Nikon picked up the pistol, mildly concerned. "Hate to point out the obvious, but some of the weapons you've given me are remarkably lethal."

The prince shook his head, removing a few boxes of ammunition. "Normally, yes. However, we have developed a few ways to make them effective without killing."

He slid a bullet over the table, the actual bullet portion of the round split into pieces as if it was a fragmentary grenade. "This is a flash bullet, designed to emit a bright flash of light when you fire instead of launching a projectile. This will blind a person at close range and daze up to about five meters."

He picked up a few bolts, each one notably different from the usual steel. "The usual sleep darts used by thieves, howling bolts from Karnaca designed to blind people, stinging bolts also from Karnaca designed to make people run away, and incindeiary bolts to start fires. All useful, if you think outside the box."

Then he grabbed the sword, grinning as he held it up. "This sword isn't blunted, as you can see, so it is lethal. However, we added a little something that might help you out."

He twirled the blade in his handle before slamming the handle down hard in a punch, shattering the portion of the table into dust.

"The pommel is weighted," explained the prince. "If you smash that into someone's face, they'll be on the floor. You hit someone in the arm or leg, it'll shatter. Knocked down is just as good as knocked out, correct?"

Nikon nodded, examining his equipment once again. It was good stuff, but something was nagging at him. It finally came to light when he picked up the blightpowder grenade, popping into his mind.

"What am I going to do if this stuff goes off near me?" asked the doctor. "Seems a bit dangerous. I might end up knocking myself out."

Kallisar conceded his point, grabbing something else from the box. "Fair enough. That's why we decided to renovate this for you."

He removed the gas mask that Nikon had used earlier, though it had been repaired significantly since then. It had been dyed black with grey paint over the metal to make it non-reflective, the respirators on it replaced with fresh ones. Most importantly, the glass of the mask had been tinted so to not be seen through, obscuring his identity as well as his features.

"This will stop you from inhaling any of these substances, and maybe freak a few guards out," added the prince smirking. "You'll look like one of the Whalers."

"Who?"

"Oh, right, you never went to Gristol…uh…they're a sort of street gang of assassins. Really professional. They disbanded a couple years ago, but I hear they still have a fearsome reputation among the righteous folk."

Nikon slid the mask on, feeling how light and easy to breathe it was. They obviously had modified it. "Fearsome? I never thought that term would apply to me."

"Neither did I," spoke the prince, a fire behind his blue eyes sparking and immediately dying. "But that's irrelevant now. What matters is using the tools given to us to complete our tasks. So, Doctor Nikon, are you willing to use these tools to rescue one of my men and your assistant?"

Nikon glanced once more at the table of equipment, mentally going through the possible ways he could utilize them. He studied the map, noting three ways he could enter the building without being seen just from the blueprints. He looked at the prince, the man who had saved his life however indirectly.

"Yes. Let's do it."


	3. Chapter 3: Charming One, Aren't You?

Nikon opened his eyes and immediately knew something was wrong.

The room was far too cold, for one, and he could no longer hear the hum of the whale oil furnace. The sound of steps above him were absent as well, and the gusts of wind normally expected from outside were gone.

Put simply, it was far too quiet.

He stood up, noting how his leg no longer ached. He pulled down his trousers, glancing at where the bandages should be. However, much like the noises expected from a busy inn, this too was absent. He saw what appeared to be an old scar there in the exact same shape from the wound, but nothing else.

"Okay, something is off. What is going on?"

He moved over to the door, pausing as he noticed how cold it was as well. It seemed to prickle the hairs on his fingers even as it hovered over the metal, but something else was scratching at the back of his mind. Even as he stood there, he could sense something was beyond the door, something he did not want to see but would be forced to.

"Alright, flip a coin," he said reaching into his pocket. He paused. "Wait, I'm broke. Flip a…shoe."

He removed his right shoe, quickly noting that the floor was very cold on his skin.

"Okay…so if it lands…oh this is idiotic, the shoe will usually land bottom side first because that's the heavier portion. It's basic physics."

He placed his shoe back on, deciding the two choices were either sit there like a big lemon or actually go through the door. So, not liking the idea of being a citrus plant, he made a decision.

He opened the door.

Nikon gasped in shock as he saw what lay before him, his eyes and mind trying to desperately deny it but failing to come up with a reasonable counterargument. It was simply too insane to believe.

The hallway was still there at least partially, but it seemed to disappear into a black abyss before him. Chunks of scenery floated around this new hole in the hallway as if it had been ripped right out of the sensible world and into this bizarre chasm.

"…okay, it would appear they have slipped some hallucinogenic compounds in my dinner."

Nikon walked out into the hallway, noticing chunks of black stone began to appear at the end of it. They seemed to float with no apparent means of maintaining this condition, and didn't appear to be made of any material he had ever seen before.

"I wonder how deep the rabbit hole goes," spoke the doctor rolling his eyes.

He stepped on one of the black stones experimentally, noting how it held his weight easily. He shifted his other foot as well, noting that the stepping stones appeared to be acting as some sort of walkway. Obviously, someone wanted him to continue.

"You know, this was not what I was expecting out of meeting otherworldly powers. I was expecting fluffy clouds, singing babies, maybe even a few winged guys in robes. This is…decidedly morbid."

He kept walking up the stone path, noting how the hallway behind him seemed to get smaller and smaller and a large island of the black stone was getting larger and larger. It seemed more like a falling asteroid over a natural shape, though the path led up to it regardless.

He reached the island, the rock path immediately destroying itself behind him. He glanced back, eyebrows raised.

"No way back…well, that figures."

He turned back around.

A man stood right in front of him, bearing into him with dark black eyes.

Nikon let out an exclamation of astonishment, stepping backwards reflexively and hitting open air. He spun his arms to maintain balance, though he could feel himself slowly tumbling.

The stranger grabbed his arm, stopping him. Nikon noticed the man's arm was ice cold, and had a grip like iron.

"T-thanks," whispered the doctor.

The man's face was impassive, black rings around his eyes seemingly expanding and contracting much like the iris in a human eye. When he spoke, his voice rang in echoes around him, as if a legion of other voices joined in to form a cacophonous symphony. "Do not be afraid, doctor. The Void will not kill you, even if you fall."

"The…Void?"

Suddenly Nikon deduced where he was, and in turn, who stood before him.

"You're the Outsider."

The Outsider smirked, yanking him up to the same footing as him. "Perceptive of you, though I did give you a hint. Yes, I am the Outsider."

The doctor blinked and he was gone, looking around confused before noticing the black-eyed man standing on a nearby boulder.

"I am that strange little man you hear so much about," stated the Outsider nonchalantly, checking his nails. "I watch, I observe, and sometimes, I push."

He teleported again, walking upside down on a stone arch as if it were right-side-up. "I cannot intervene directly, you understand, being from the Void, but I can manipulate what I wish. It's amazing what small details can do to the overall picture. Did you know what caused the late Empress Kaldwin's assassination?"

The Outsider appeared right beside him then, smiling as if he had heard the most tantalizing bit of gossip. "If you want to be short-sighed, it was two years before, when her group of associates decided they didn't much like working under her. If you want to be technical, it started the day I gave the assassin Daud his powers, nearly two decades before that assassination. If you want to be honest, it started nearly two centuries ago, when the Kaldwin family line originated. Everything has a link to something. All the choices we make affect our future."

"And why am I here?" asked Nikon bluntly, though not without a tinge of fear. "I am just a doctor."

"Hmm? Just a doctor? Well yes, and Anton Sokolov is just a philosopher, but that didn't stop him from curing the plague, did it not? You humans don't seem very adept at seeing the webs you weave, the things you can accomplish if you just pull the strings."

The Outsider blinked to further into the island, beckoning him forward.

The doctor followed him, the Outsider pointing to just past a nearby wall. Nikon glanced over it, stopping dead.

The scene before him was of a small concrete cell, a total of three occupants inside. They were motionless there, and Nikon could see they were clearly in the middle of an interrogation. The one being interrogated was a young woman, her face covered in cuts and bruises from what likely was fists. He also recognized her, a fact that quickly distressed him.

"Diana…" he whispered, walking over the her and putting a hand on her arm. He could feel her body heat, but she did not react at all to him, nor did the other two men at the table. He then realized two things. First, one of the two interrogators were actually a woman, and the man was Secretary Kalin.

"So, you must be his captain of the guard," noted Nikon glaring at the woman, noting the blood on her hands. "Charming one, aren't you?"

He poked Secretary Kalin's face then, the stern-faced man glaring intensely at Diana. "Wow, you're a lot uglier when you've tried to have me killed."

The Outsider appeared suddenly beside him, glancing at Kalin emotionlessly. "I believe the woman they are interrogating is your assistant, yes? These notes, they are yours."

"How am I seeing this?" asked Nikon curiously. "How can you see this?"

"My job is to see, and observe. That's all I like to do, really. Divine intervention holds no appeal to me."

He traced his finger along the table, smirking as he did so. "This man right in front of you is Secretary Kalin, the man who betrayed you. He killed your sponsor, kidnapped your assistant, and are trying to use your notes as their own. So, there are two options in front of you. Either you curl up and die…"

He grinned, placing a thumb right over Kalin's throat. "Or you take back what is yours."

Nikon recoiled. "I don't want him dead. You may not understand this, but humans do not like killing each other."

The Outsider raised an eyebrow, pointing at Diana's bruised and battered face. "Ah, so I take it those were self-inflicted?"

Nikon gritted his teeth. "Some humans are crueler than others, but I like to think humans as a whole are good natured."

"Well good for you, doctor, but I doubt your assistant holds the same belief now. Anyway, let's continue."

The scene disappeared into a flurry of shadows, the Outsider reappearing in a new one several feet away. This one was of the doctor at the desk with Prince Kallisar, though now he noticed an extraordinary detail. Kallisar had his right hand behind his back for most of their meeting, but he could see something on it now that he could view the scene from every angle. On the back of the Prince's hand was the Outsider's mark, the symbol for those who contacted him and gained powers from the Void.

"Oh my God," whispered Nikon astonished. A theory popped into his head, immediately panicking. "Wait, he didn't…bewitch me, did he?"

"What?" asked the Outsider confused. "He's not a witch, you know. I gave him powers at the beginning of his journey, and I must say it has made him very interesting to watch. There's more to him than just some warm skin, as you so kindly remembered from that little play they wrote about him."

Nikon blushed, chuckling. "Well…uh…a noblewoman I was trying to court wanted to see it and…I thought it was pretty bland, truthfully, but…"

"Doctor, you are marking polite excuses to a creature millennium old. I've seen far worse than a subpar pornographic theatre production."

He smirked, draping his arms around Kallisar's frozen features and sliding his chin into the crook of his neck, as if nuzzling him. "Quite a charismatic man, isn't he? Eyes full of fire, voice full of conviction…he certainly seemed to inspire you."

"I don't care about his revolution," snapped Nikon harshly. "I don't concern myself in politics. I just want Diana back."

"Is that all?" asked the Outsider pointedly. He teleported right in front of him, eyes burrowing into the doctor's. "Is that really all you desire? Truthfully? If I could give you Diana back now, you could die content?"

"Well no, I…"

"So, you want more? Like what?"

"Well I…uh…I want to…"

The Outsider groaned, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, this went so much better when I didn't let them talk to me…damn humans always have trouble speaking their mind."

He tapped the doctor on the chest, and Nikon could swear his heart stopped when he touched him. "It is time for you to grasp the strings given to you, doctor, and pull as hard as you can. Tell me the truth. What do you want?"

"I…uh…I want my assistant back."

The outsider poked him in the heart, and the doctor screamed in pain as he clutched at his chest. He could not move back though, invisible hands keeping him rooted to the spot.

"I'll ask again until you answer truthfully. What do you want?"

"I…I! I want…no one else to suffer because of me!"

The Outsider held up his hand, but did not touch him. "That is an interesting answer. Please continue. What else do you want?"

"I want to…I want to help everyone as much as I can. I want to make the world a better place for everyone. And most of all…I want to get rid of those who would do harm to the people I care about and to others. I want to see them be removed from their seats of power and never rise again to them."

The Outsider grinned, lowering his hand. "Excellent. That is exactly what I wanted to hear from you."

He waved his fingers, Nikon suddenly feeling a burning in his left hand. He glanced at it in horror as he saw flames erupt from underneath the skin, etching a familiar symbol onto the flesh.

"My Mark, just for you," stated the Outsider. "I will give you great powers beyond your imagination, and you shall do as you see fit. There are no strings attached to this gift doctor, save those you pull with it."

He teleported a short distance away, snapping his fingers. Immediately, the stone island cleaved itself in half, the two halves floating away from each other until they were several meters apart.

"Try it out," encouraged the Outsider smiling. "It will allow you to pass."

Nikon glanced at his hand, feeling something in his palm. He clutched it, though no object was there, noticing it appeared to be smooth and spherical, like a rubber ball. He tossed it into the air and caught it, the invisible object acting much like a visible one would.

"…well, I think I know what this does," he decided shrugging. "Just an infinite story fall if I mess this up."

He took a few steps back, wheeling up his arm and taking aim. Then he tossed it underhand, sending it sailing through the air.

Then he reappeared right next to the Outsider, clutching the ball with an outstretched hand. He gasped, holding it in astonishment as he saw where he had been just a second ago across the abyss. "Wow…that's incredible."

"Yes, I hear Fling is quite exhilarating," stated the Outsider. "You can use it to get into places you normally could not. Do be warned though, it cannot go through objects you could not go through, so no tossing it down ventilation shafts."

Nikon smirked, glancing to his side and noticing something. The rock next to him was massive, towering above him by several stories, and seemed to be reflective unlike all the other ones. He saw an image of the Outsider and himself there, but something was different. The Nikon in that reflection was wearing a white plague doctor mask, and seemed to have a colder look in his eyes.

He looked down shocked, suddenly feeling that he was wearing his gas mask from earlier. "Outsider! What is this?! Who is that?!"

The Outsider glanced at the reflection curiously, before raising his eyebrows. "Oh? Now that is very interesting…well, I think you need to ask him yourself."

He snapped his fingers, the scene before Nikon rippling like water, and then in an instant resettling. Now he was standing before the plague doctor, both of them barely a meter apart.

The plague doctor looked at him curiously, his dull brown eyes studying him. Nikon felt nervous with how cold the man's gaze was, and felt like a rat being dissected.

"Uh…hi?" asked the doctor nervously.

"Hello," stated the plague doctor evenly. "Tell me, your voice…you sound…similar to someone I know…"

Nikon nodded, agreeing with him. "Yes, as do you. I…"

He stopped, an idea springing into his head. Clearly the other man had the same thought, as they both locked eyes for a second.

Without a word they removed their masks, unveiling the familiar dark brown hair and chocolate eyes. Their skin was pale from years in the snow, their beards growing more as rough stubble along their sides and a split running down the left side of their lips from a fight with their father on their twenty-second birthday.

"My God," they both whispered at the same time, practically staring into a mirror.

The plague doctor Nikon rubbed his face, trying to process what was going on. "Wow…this is…are you…real?"

The gas mask Nikon recoiled like he had been slapped in the face "Of course I am real! How do I know you are not?!"

"Hmm, fair enough. Fine then. I think there's a simple way for us to figure this out."

The plague doctor Nikon sat on the ground, crossing his arms. "One of us asks a question relating to our past, and the other responds with their version. Then we switch. Assuming we both give similar answers, that should determine if we really are Doctor Nikon Luca."

"But…how can there we two of us?"

The plague doctor Nikon shrugged. "Does it matter right now? We can figure that out later. Right now, we need to trust each other. So, I will start first. How did you split your lip?"

The gas mask Nikon didn't much like this facsimile of himself, but decided that aggravating him was a bad idea. "Got in a fight with my dad, twenty-second birthday. Son of a bitch decided to go on a drunken bender and start hitting mom again. I stepped in, he busted my lip, I broke his hand."

"Odd," murmured the plague doctor Nikon. "I stabbed him in the chest with a broken bottle."

Gas mask Nikon gasped in horror. "You murdered your father?"

Plague doctor Nikon waved the thought away. "No, it wasn't lethal, and I was able to sew it shut anyway. Son of a bitch never touched mom again, though. Now ask me a question."

"Okay…I have never drunk a drop of alcohol in my life."

"Same. Ever since I saw what it did to my old man, never liked the thought of it. Same for you?"

"Yeah. What's your favorite food?"

"Fried mushrooms and onions, and really, that's all you can think of?"

Gas mask Nikon shrugged. "I'm hungry."

Plague doctor Nikon rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm not, by the way, in case you wondered. Now, what was your major at the university?"

"General practices."

"Now that is interesting. Mine was surgery, with a minor in biology."

"My minor was surgery."

The two stopped for a moment, before gas mask laughed.

"So, is that it then? We're different people because we took different classes? What a sad joke, Outsider. You really could've done better."

"This isn't a joke," snapped plague doctor Nikon harshly, glaring at him. "I am real. I am Doctor Nikon Luca, chief physician to council member Kuznetsov. My research assistant is Diana Khil, a charming and intelligent woman who was taken from me by Secretary Kalin's private guard. I am conspiring with Prince Kallisar to retrieve her from Kalin's guard barracks. Sound about right, gas mask?"

Gas mask Nikon gazed at him astonished, hands beginning to tremble. "…yes. That's exactly right."

The plague doctor Nikon scratched at his chin, his lips moving as he internally debated. "Maybe…I can think of one major event that may have influenced us. Something I would never forget as long as I lived. The first time I killed."

Gas mask Nikon nodded sadly. "451 Red Crow Street, the watchmaker. He was fifty-three years old and a master of his craft. He had just made a watch for his nephew before I decided to rob his safe. I hadn't eaten in three days, and the hunger was beginning to torment my mind. As I was unlocking his safe, he found me. We got in a skirmish, and then I…I…"

"…slit his throat and watched him bleed out across the floor," finished plague doctor Nikon mournfully. "I proceeded to vomit on the floor in disgust, and spent the night at my hovel sobbing in shame. I had killed an innocent man, and for what?"

"Thirty-seven coins," whispered the gas mask Nikon. "That's all he had saved up. I killed a human being for thirty-seven coins."

He stopped, realizing something in one of his opposite's sentences. A small detail, so inconsequential he had initially dismissed it, but it had grown into a tree of doubt from the tiny seed it had originated from.

"Before, you said the first time you killed…" said the gas mask Nikon.

Plague doctor Nikon nodded. "Yes. That was factual. It was the first time I killed a person."

"…I remember it as the only time I've killed a person."

They both remained silent for a few moments, both realizing what the implications of that meant.

"You…you kill people?" asked the gas mask Nikon with a quiet voice, like a child.

"…I had no other choice," argued the plague doctor harshly. "I do not enjoy it."

"There is always another choice. How many men did you kill escaping Kuznetsov's manor?"

"Two, technically. Diana shot the other one."

The gas mask Nikon widened his eyes. "You got Diana to kill too? What sort of…who…what are you? You can't be me."

"Oh, so you are not Dr. Nikon Luca?"

"I am proposing you are not."

Plague doctor Nikon stood up, glaring at him intensely. "How dare you propose that? We are both the same man, just in different circumstances. I think that at one point in time, you may very well have been like me."

Gas mask Nikon shook his head. "Never. Not in a million years would I kill another person. Even if it meant I must die."

"What if it meant Diana would die?"

"…what?"

Plague doctor Nikon got closer, the other shrinking in fear at the look in his eyes. He looked ready to murder right there, his eyes flaying the skin off of him and exposing the vulnerable organs beneath.

"If it came down to it, would you kill a person to rescue Diana?"

"There has to be another…"

"What if there isn't?!" screamed the plague doctor, stunning gas mask with the sheer ferocity with which he spoke. "If it came down to it, who would you rather see die?!"

Gas mask Nikon decided enough was enough, and stood straight. "Myself. If it came down to it, I would give my life so Diana may live. Can you say the same?"

Plague doctor took a step back, cheeks red with anger. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"That silence is all I needed to hear," spoke gas mask, feeling his stomach twist in disgust at this cowardly parody before him. "I am leaving now."

When he looked back, the other Nikon had disappeared, leaving him alone on the black stone.


	4. Chapter 4: Why?

Diana stood dead still in the darkness, holding her breath.

The guard, who had lumbered drunkenly around the sewer system for the last half hour after downing an entire bottle of wine, glanced in her direction. He was a big oaf of a man, a large belly from alcohol and meat giving him decisive budge, but his pistol and sword were loaded and sharpened respectively. Even if he was drunk and looked like the sort of man who drank lead back in the old days, he could still wound or kill her unarmed self.

He kept walking, Diana letting out a reflexive breath. He really was drunk. The sewer was lit relatively well with whale oil lanterns, and the table she was under, while not illuminated, was certainly not dark.

"To be fair, he hardly is expecting anyone," noted Diana unconsciously, a habit she had picked up from Nikon.

She had successfully dug a hole in the holding cell she had been locked in, the guard barracks having been built over earth instead of concrete, and had stumbled onto the sewer system below the city. This time of year the snow was very light, and therefore the sewers were rather low in water level. This district of town was also had a low crime rate, due to being right next to Secretary Kalin's personal barracks, and so there were little guards in remote areas such as this.

"Weird how the cell lead to this," she grunted moving low to the ground, avoiding the bits of stone and shards of glass populating the walkways.

She panicked again, having already thought of the notion that maybe this escape of hers was foreseen, and she was walking into a trap. She dismissed it just as quickly it had arrived. What was the point of that? Any escape at all had the probability of her actually escaping, regardless of the circumstances involved in it, and was a huge unnecessary risk for simple emotional damage.

The drunk guard stopped at a stone column, leaning against it and singing a small tune to himself. It had something to do with mining, which was all everyone in this damned town seemed to talk about besides the cold.

Diana overviewed her options. Walking around the guard wasn't a possibility with only one walkway. The water was a foot deep and freezing cold, so swimming was right out. That left violence or confusing the guard.

She debated the likelihood of success of ambushing him. There were plenty of improvised weapons she could use, but ambushes like that relied solely on the first attack, and she was not confident in her first hit successfully incapacitating the guard. Even if she got a second hit in, he would be startled to her presence and react accordingly, which likely would involve shooting her right in the chest.

Then the idea sprang into her head. It was simple really, a stupid plan, but it would buy her just enough time.

She grabbed the empty bottle of wine from the barrel he had set it on, twirling it in her hand. She predicted that throwing it over his head to the opposite wall would cause him to devote his attention fully to that wall, allowing her to slip by quickly and hide. She had not seen what was after him, but each scenario had to be dealt with at a time.

She chucked the bottle.

It smacked the guard right in the head, shattering into pieces.

"God, I'm fucking bad at this," she grunted.

The guard turned around, holding the back of his head. "Hey, what the f…?"

Diana shoved him into the water, throwing up freezing cold liquid and causing the guard to swear out a long stream of profanities. She kicked him harshly in the groin before sprinting down the tunnel, knowing she had maybe five seconds before he got back up and was able to shoot her.

That number turned out to be inaccurate, as a bullet slammed into the wall next to her when she rounded a corner.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, her heart skipping a beat before returning to its pounding rhythm.

She analyzed the tunnel in front of her as she ran, noting that she was moving to the south, deeper into the city. That meant a higher concentrations of other rooms she could sneak into, at least hopefully. Not a lot of buildings went directly into the sewer system, but a few did, especially those unsavory enough to dump their garbage directly into it.

She stepped on a chunk of rotten meat, sliding as the decaying grease moved under her foot. She collapsed onto her knees, scraping them terribly and causing her to swear loudly.

"Meat? Am I near a butcher's shop?"

She saw a rat, the creature eyeing her for a moment before scampering off. It was big and fat, likely living off the trash that was thrown down here. She saw it scamper to a nearby hole, before seeing the door near it.

She immediately jumped for it, throwing the door open and entering before closing it.

She turned around and nearly vomited, fighting the urge as the smell flooded her nose and mouth.

It was a butcher's shop, but this appeared to be his discard pile. Chunks of bone and fat lay in sickening chunks all around her, placed below grates on the ceiling above, likely fed from tables worked by butchers. It reeked in there, the miasma of death and decay nauseating.

She heard heavy footsteps outside the door and quickly hid behind a pile, swearing. The other guards had clearly heard his commotion, and had come running to find whoever had attacked him.

"Should've waited for the next door," she murmured. "Goddamn it, they're going to check this room first."

She took a deep breath, and did something that she would regret for years to come.

She dove into the pile of guts, sealing her mouth shut as she dredged her body through it. The smell got everywhere, chunks of fat and bone sliding against her bare arms, but she ignored it, pushing her body further in. The pile was the largest in the room but was maybe five foot across, and would probably expose a bit of herself no matter how she hid.

She got her waist in, using her hands to push herself deeper into the pile. Her legs were still jutting out, but as she moved they got more covered in the chilly meat, until she felt her feet reach it. She did her best to tuck her knees under her to hide her feet, but felt the pile begin to shift off-balance and expose her head at the top, so she ceased it. Hopefully they'd do a simple visual search and continue.

No sooner had that thought crossed her mind then the door to the room flew open, footsteps resounding in the small room. She could not actually see, but counted about four or five distinct pairs of steps entering the room.

"Nothing!" grunted one of the guards.

"Naw, there was a bloody footprint outside the door," argued a second one.

"Look around for bloody footprints!" shouted a third.

"What are we looking for again?" asked a fourth.

"A damn woman!" yelled the second.

"Oh, nice," spoke the fourth with a slimy undertone.

She shivered unconsciously. She knew that sort of tone.

The fifth man sniffed hard, his voice slurred by drink. Obviously, he had been the one she had kicked. "Find that fucking whore! My nadgers and my head are killing me!"

"Well maybe you should use the second more than the first, you useless drunk," snapped the third harshly.

"Oh fuck you! You're such a piece of shit, your own son is sick to look at ya!"

"Quiet down, the lot of ya!" roared the first guard, apparently some sort of leader. He stopped, noticing something. "…any of you see something odd here?"

The other four obviously didn't, so he continued.

"There ain't no damn rats running away from us. This much meat, they'd definitely have been chewing around here, but we haven't seen a tail. Any reason that might be?"

Diana swore under her breath. The rats! Of course! Her presence had likely startled them off, making a possibility in their minds a certainty.

It didn't take long to find her, the guards dragging her out from under the pile. She fought back with a few fevered kicks, but a quick clock across the jaw took the fight out of her. Her arms were held at out from her by two guards, the other three studying her closely.

"Huh, kinda pretty," grunted the second one, a boorish man.

"Looks more rugged to me" noted the fourth, a thinly boy maybe out of adolescence. "Lot of bruises."

"Fucking whores and their handlers," noted the first man, a captain in uniform.

The fifth man, the drunk she had kicked, twisted her arm painfully. "Who are you, bitch?"

Diana decided there was little reason to lie. "I'm a prisoner of Secretary Kalin."

Most of the guards laughed.

"Yeah right, and I'm the fucking Outsider," grunted the third man, a rat-like man.

"Probably some pickpocket or whore, trying to run away from whatever hole she lived in," snapped the first man harshly. "We'll take her in, figure out what to do then."

The fifth man glanced at his superior. "Oh, come on boss! This bitch has caused me a whole heap of trouble!"

"And what do you want me to do about it?"

The drunk smirked, twisting Diana's arm further. "Let's rough her up a bit. Nothing too serious, I'd hate to break that pretty face more than it already is."

"Yeah, let's do it!" shouted the fourth man, licking his lips. "Maybe she'll like it too."

Diana knew immediately what they had in mind and began to panic, her heart tripling in beats.

"This is illegal, captain!" snapped the former assistant.

The first man didn't pay her any mind at all, turning around and waving his hand dismissively. "Fine, have your stupid fun. You have five minutes, then we're taking her in."

The fifth man smirked, before throwing Diana on the ground. "Sweet. I go first."

Diana fought back. She put an honest effort into it, clawing and kicking and screaming like a wounded animal. She got a solid scratch onto the third man before a rain of punches and kicks flew down on her, surrounding her entire body in blinding pain. Then they tore her clothes, harsh nails scratching at her skin.

"Fine, now let's start," spoke the fifth man undoing his belt.

A metal blade stabbed straight through his neck, the man grasping at the thin metal in shock.

Then the blade withdrew, blood spewing from the hole in his neck and dousing all four of the people in front of him in a bath of gore.

The drunk collapsed, exposing four new occupants of the room. She recognized them immediately by their black and gold cloaks, the private guard of Secretary Kalin.

The man with the thin blade, Dorian Page, cleaned his rapier on a small cloth he carried with him. He looked up, a smile on his face. "Well, what do we have here? Did I interrupt a little session you were having?"

The guards said nothing, gulping consecutively in fear.

The largest of the four, Ranald Kerr, grabbed Diana and threw his cloak over her bare chest to offer her some decency. His hands were covered in metal gauntlets, stained red with blood.

"Fucking disgusting," snapped the woman among the four, Amelia Caro. She had her twin pistols at her hip, but her eyes held more than enough hatred to kill. "You all are guards employed by the Secretaries to uphold the law, not ignore it for personal gratification."

Dorian smirked, smelling his blade. "Ah, the smell of blood. God, it's enough to make a man sick. Shall I show you?"

"Wait," whispered Diana.

He paused, glancing back at her.

"Hmm? Did you say something?"

"Don't kill them."

Dorian tilted his head curiously. "Why?"

"Lady, hate to point out the obvious, but these guys aren't exactly paragons of society," noted Ranald. "They're rapists now, and we have a simple policy for that."

"I agree, but they have worth, even as simple laborers. Send them to Utyrka."

The four guards paled considerably. Utyrka, the infamous salt mine, had a history for killing those sent to it. It was the worst penal camp of all, and no one had ever left it.

Dorian laughed out loud, glancing at her with newfound glee. "You know what? I like you. You got a sense of humor. Sure, I can agree to that. Anyone else in objection?"

"Fine by me," snapped Amelia crossing her arms. "I only wish I'd be the only to watch these guys freeze to death."

Ranald rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Not my sense of justice, but you Tvyians are bloody weird."

They walked out of the room, the captain from earlier holding his bloody mouth. Judging by the nearby white and red bones, Ranald had punched almost all of his teeth out.

"Oh, and you're going too," spoke Amelia coldly. "Hope you have some winter clothes."

The fourth member of Kalin's guard, Zakhar Usov, was holding his crossbow at the captain's head. He looked up, mildly curiously. "Odd. You didn't kill all of them?"

"Her idea," snapped Ranald pointing at Diana. "Don't ask me why. If I was her, I'd want to see these guys castrated then decapitated in the city square."

Zakhar gave her a glance, but shrugged. "Very well. Let's take her back to Kalin."

Dorian sheathed his sword, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, might as well. He did send us to retrieve her, after all."

"You knew I had escaped that quickly?" asked Diana astonished.

"Yes," answered Zakhar bluntly. "I anticipated you had located the hole in your cell, so all I had to do was watch and wait. I could even tell exactly when you left, having created a simple trigger on the floor below where the hole was. As easy as hunting rabbits."

Diana's cheeks flushed with indignation. She knew her escape had been accounted for!

"To be fair, you dug through at a far faster rate than I had predicted. I did not predict you would use a piece of the bookshelf hiding the hole as a makeshift shovel, accelerating your escape by about four hours."

"Don't show off, Zakhar," grunted Amelia glaring at him. "We all don't have eyes for detail like you do."

Dorian grinned, cocking back his head to glance at his partner. "Yeah, don't be a showoff. Some of us have to put some actual brawn into our job, unlike you Mr. Hunter."

"Heh, brawn," spoke Ranald rolling his eyes. "You wouldn't know brawn if it split your skull apart."

"Okay, no need to rub that lost bet in my face," snapped the swordsman pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "Can't hardly believe even a guy as big as you were able to cave a man's skull in with your bare fucking hands. Like a fucking grape."

They reached the sewer entrance into Kalin's barracks, leading her back up the stairs into familiar territory. Diana knew it was idiotic to try and escape now, as she'd never get out of range of Zakhar's crossbow or Amelia's pistols, and they weren't the type of shoot to wound.

"Well, this has been fun," said Dorian leaning in to Diana's level, exposing the fact that his canines had clearly been sharpened. "If you excuse me, I need to return to my rounds in case any other pretty damsels need to be rescued from a rape scenario. Hopefully they'll let me kill offenders this time though; nothing gets my blood pumping like killing degenerates."

"Fine, go back to it," snapped Amelia, annoyed by his presence. "Maybe you'll satisfy that stupid blood lust of yours."

"The thing about lust, sweetie…" spoke Dorian grinning mischievously, "is it's never really satisfied. It's merely abated."

He walked off, the other three escorting her. However, they did not go back to her cell or the interrogation room, going into an unknown wing of the building. It was noticeably nicer than the rest, and the guards appeared to be of higher ranks.

They reached an office, Diana's eyes widened when she saw who was inside. There were two present, and she really didn't like either of them.

"Ah, Diana," spoke Secretary Kalin calmly. "It would appear you attempted to leave us."

"Not very nice," stated Anna Morozov, glaring at her intensely.

"We found her in the sewers," stated Amelia matter-of-factly. "Four of the guardsmen were attempting to sexually assault her while their captain stood by."

Kalin paused, before giving Diana a concerned look. "I am genuinely sorry you had to go through that."

Diana wasn't sure if he actually meant that or if it was an empty nicety, but it was comforting regardless.

Anna turned to Kalin, bowing her head. "Secretary Kalin, I must formally apologize for the actions of my men. They were hired by me, and so I bear the responsibility for this revolting breach of conduct."

"Apology accepted," stated Kalin smoothly. "I imagine whatever punishment you all came up with was sufficient."

"We sent them to Utyrka," clarified Ranald unhappily. "Well, except the instigator. Dorian killed him."

"I imagine he did. Well, that's satisfactory enough for me. Now, let us discuss Nikon's research."

Diana sighed, wrapping Ranald's cloak tighter over her frame. "Can I please rest? I did just go through a lot."

Anna made a move, likely an aggressive one, but Kalin stopped her with a hand. He looked at her evenly, neither sympathetic nor cruel.

"Ms. Diana, please understand I do not feel animosity towards you. If anything, I feel very little at all for you, around the same level as the food I eat or the clothes I wear. I see you solely as a resource I require at the moment. Once you are no longer needed, I see no reason to associate myself further with you."

"Which means you'll kill me, so what's the point?" snapped Diana, annoyed by his words.

Kalin smiled patiently, like one would with a child. "Diana, I am a politician, not a psychopath. I am more than happy to send you to some remote corner of the world to get you out of my hair, along with the doctor if you choose. You will have provided a great resource to me, and so I see no reason to have you killed for benefiting me."

Diana cracked a little. His words were so encouraging and logical, and any person would believe him. It would be so much easier to believe him, to give in.

She stopped, collecting herself.

She straightened her back, staring at him confidently. Her face was covered in bruises and welts, her shirt and skirt were in tatters and covered solely by someone else's cloak, and she was soaked in a stranger's blood, but she remained firm.

"I will not tell you," she spoke calmly.

Kalin sighed, rubbing his face in his hands. "Well, that's unfortunate."

He raised his right hand, revealing a tattoo along the back. On closer inspection, it actually looked closer to a burn mark, deliberately made like a tattoo. It was a familiar mark, one she had seen on pictures and newspaper clippings numerous times.

"A real shame I can just make you tell me, though," stated Kalin smirking, the Mark of the Outsider on his hand beginning to glow. "Now let me ask again…"


	5. Chapter 5: Cannot Stomach It

Nikon adjusted the mask over his face, noting how it had begun to obtain a sweaty leather odor that was rather unpleasant.

"Wish I had chosen the plague doctor mask," murmured the doctor, leaning against the railing of the small apartment they were housed in. "Could've loaded the beak with spices and other things to block out the smell."

He flicked a bug off the railing, reminiscing once again about the meeting he had with his other self. Assuming it actually was him from some different realm of reality and not some Outsider shenanigans, the thought of a genuine version of himself acting in such a way was…distressing.

"Killing people is one thing, but…" whispered Nikon. "…he really wouldn't lay down his life for Diana? I don't believe that."

His thoughts turned to Diana, his hands gripping the railing tighter. Kallisar's scout had reported they had seen her taken into Kalin's guard barracks under distress, and apparently, she had been heavily bruised and ragged from what they could see. The thought of someone injuring his assistant, let alone for reasons that pertained to him, was distressing indeed.

He looked out to the guard barracks, several blocks away straight down the street. "Diana…just hold on. I'm on the way."

Nikon turned back into the living room, other various men standing around a meeting table. He recognized Irving, wearing a boar's mask complete with tusks, but the rest were unknown to him. They all wore animal masks to conceal their identities, and each carried a satchel of explosives.

"Alright doctor, are you ready?" asked Irving. "You go in, get the girls, and blow the signal. We come in, blow the place up. Sound good?"

"Laconic, but accurate," replied the doctor. He studied the map, noting the various patrol routes and security systems the others had made notes of. The guards seemed to rotate shifts every two hours or so, and the patrols rarely varied. The front courtyard had only one entrance covered with a Wall of Light, and in case of an emergency signal, several Arc Pylons placed along the sides of the building would withdraw from the walls.

"Now, this woman you want to be dispose of…" murmured Nikon.

Irving glanced at him slightly exasperated. "Doctor, we've been over this. Anna Morozov, captain of the guard, must die. There's nothing that can be done about that."

"No, no, I cannot accept that. I will not kill for simple convenience. There must be another way."

He paused, noticing a small mark someone had made on a street a few blocks away. He pointed to it. "This house there…that is her residence?"

"Yeah, but she usually sleeps in the barracks," explained Irving. "Someone else lives there. A woman. Sasha, I think her name was. Ordinary woman, works at a bakery. They're probably friends or something."

Nikon raised an eyebrow, immediately guessing why Sasha lived with Anna but not vocalizing it. "…I think I'll pay Ms. Sasha a visit. I have a plan to get rid of Anna that doesn't involve killing her, but it's a bit technical."

Irving crossed his arms over his chest. "Explain. I might accommodate."

* * *

Nikon combed his hair, hoping he didn't smell too bad and looked professional enough. This act was going to be difficult to pull off.

He rang the doorbell and put on his best smile.

A few seconds later, a woman answered the door, head tilted in curiosity. "Good evening…?"

Nikon gave a small bow, his brown suit not technically his size. "Dobryy vecher (good evening), Madam Sasha. I am a private physician to Secretary Kalin. Is this the address of Captain Anna Morozov?"

"Yes it is…you said physician…did something happen to Anna?"

"May I come in?" asked Nikon trying to change the subject. "I am quite cold."

"Oh, certainly, certainly. Please, into the sitting room."

Nikon studied the house as he sat down, noting how it was well-furnished but quant. He saw a painting of Anna and Sasha underneath a tree, both of them smiling, and knew his guess had been correct. They were indeed romantic partners, keeping it lowkey due to the social stigma against homosexuals.

"Would you like a drink?" asked Sasha politely, though it was clear she was becoming anxious.

"No, no, I'm fine," assured Nikon gently. "Please, sit. This news is very important."

Sasha did so, a bead of sweat gathering on her forehead. "It's not bad news, is it? Please tell me Anna is alright. I…well, it would trouble me if she was not. We're friends you see."

Nikon nodded sympathetically. "Yes, I understand. Do not be alarmed. Anna is alive and well, though the status of such a thing will fluctuate."

Sasha paled slightly. "What do you mean? Is she ill? Injured? Please, tell me!"

She calmed herself, gathering up her dignity. "My apologies. I shouldn't shout. I know you are just a messenger."

Nikon gave a smile. He liked Sasha. She was polite, caring, and pretty. It was a shame what he was about to do.

"Thank you for your understanding. Rest assured, Anna's condition is one that can be controlled. Specifically, by you."

"Me? I fail to see what you mean, doctor."

Nikon reached into his coat pocket, withdrawing something that made all the blood leave Sasha's face and caused her to tighten her entire body.

"Nice mask, right?" asked the doctor holding his gas mask, grinning widely like a psychopath. "I joined a short while ago, so I got the new and improved mask. I like it. Take good care of it."

"I'm calling the guard," snapped Sasha, though she did not move, absolutely frozen with terror. That mask was identical to those worn by Gristol Whalers, the assassin cult that had publicly been disbanded, but no one believed it.

"That would be inadvisable, Ms. Sasha," reminded Nikon putting the mask away. "Please, do not make me do something I will regret. You see, I'm probably the worst assassin in my organization. Really dislike the practice of killing, truth be told. But I did get a contract, so I have to fulfill it somehow."

He grinned again. "So, this is where you come in. I know of your relationship with Ms. Morozov very well. You're not just roommates or friends, are you?"

Sasha said nothing, gulping and sweating.

"Your partners, are you not? Do you love Ms. Morozov? Do you kiss her? Do you fuck her? Tell me you do, or this plan isn't going to work."

"…yes."

Nikon clapped his hands once. "Splendid! Then I have an exclusive offer just for you two! A one-way trip to the isle of Morley! You both leave this evening from Tyvia and never look back, and my contract will, for all intents and purposes, be fulfilled! And you two get to live, and live indeed, I should say! Morley is wonderful this time of year, and I hear that the isle has amazing drink and food! A win-win, wouldn't you say?"

"…has Anna agreed to this plan?"

Nikon tut-tutted with his finger, as if scolding a child. "Now Ms. Sasha, do not ask foolish questions. I'm sure you know damn well Ms. Morozov would not agree to such a thing if you did not. Of course, she has not. That's why I want you to agree first."

Sasha processed that for a moment. "…I'm a hostage. You're going to use me as leverage to make Anna leave."

The doctor chuckled, genuinely impressed. "Very astute of you, Ms. Sasha! Are you sure you are just a humble baker? I have met noblemen with less sense than you possess! Yes, that is what I am going to do."

He put his mask on before withdrawing one of the blightpowder grenades Kallisar had given him, examining it. "Truth be told, I could've just abducted you, told Ms. Morozov you agreed, then had you shipped out, but I prefer not to cause too much distress. I'm a kinder man than that."

Sasha looked at the grenade, and realized he was completely right. If this man was a trained killer like he said he was, the task would've been easy for him to accomplish.

"…Wynnedown."

"Hmm? I'm sorry, I don't comprehend."

"Wynnedown, the capital of Morley. I want to go there with Anna. Promise me that, and I will agree."

Nikon made a 'whatever you want' sort of gesture. "Of course, Ms. Sasha. Now, I obviously can't take your word on that, so please do your best not to panic when I do this."

He opened the blightpowder grenade.

Immediately the room filled with white gas, Sasha standing up and inhaling a throatful. She grasped at her throat and tried to run, but Nikon was on her. He grabbed her nose and pinched it shut, smacking her hard in the stomach to make her inhale more of the gas. In four seconds, she was motionless.

"My apologies, Ms. Sasha," whispered Nikon gently, wishing he hadn't have been so harsh to her. "But believe me, this is a kinder fate than being left a widow."

He glanced at her person for any identifying characteristics, before noticing a small gold ring on her right ring finger. He removed it, studying it. On the back was inscribed a small message.

 _To my love. A. M._

Nikon grinned. That would do just fine.

"Well, let's hope Ms. Morozov will see reason."

He stopped, hearing something. It sounded like whispering, so quiet he could barely detect it, but it was unmistakable. He looked around, trying to see if some interloper had snuck up on him.

Then he recognized it. It was the same whispering noise he heard in the Void, like background static over an electronic broadcast.

"…why am I hearing that here?"

He stood up, looking around the house. The noise fluctuated in volume as he moved, before finally it became loud enough to become almost unbearable. He was standing in front of a set of drawers in a desk, and it seemed to be coming from the top drawer.

Nikon opened the drawer, revealing a variety of various office supplies, but also something rather peculiar. It was a wrapped package about the size of a dessert plate, and it appeared to be circular as well. It was wrapped in old parchment, and seemed to shake in the desk, though not physically. As he looked at it, his vision of the object became harder and harder to concentrate on, seemingly vibrating solely in his field of vision.

"Now that is very odd."

He picked it up, unwrapping the parchment. Only then did he understand exactly why it acted so peculiarly.

It was whalebone, carved roughly in a circular shape, and had a black symbol on it that looked burnt into the surface. It was the Mark of the Outsider, and he could feel immense power within the small artifact.

Then he looked up, and realized he was in the Void.

"…well shit, artifacts like this exist in the real world," murmured Nikon.

"Yes," answered the Outsider, walking out from a floating chunk of the wall next to the doctor. "These runes, carved by my followers, are common artifacts for most people. They believe it gives them good luck. As you are probably aware, the opposite is usually true."

"Considering what is happened to Ms. Sasha, I'd consider it good luck."

"Ah, yes, the affair with you and Ms. Sasha. Very interesting. Why do you concern yourself with keeping your hands clean, doctor?"

"You sound like that gas mask version of me. By the way, very poor taste what you did there."

The Outsider raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying it was an illusion by me? It was not. That is really you, in a different place."

Nikon sighed, rubbing his eyes. "…gods…what does that even me? I don't even think the philosophers have talked about something like this. Is it some…different reality?"

"That is an accurate description, though I fear the actual truth is much harder to visualize. Regardless, I am curious about how different you are."

"Why?" asked Nikon desperately. "Why are we different? What made him the way he is?"

The Outsider shrugged. "Any number of things. You share many common events, and to explain the tiny differences would be astronomically tedious."

He sat down on half of the desk that remained, placing his elbows on his knees. "Now, answer my original question. Why do you dislike killing so much? Consider it a philosophical question."

"…I cannot stomach it. Every human being, fundamentally, is capable of reason and understanding, and each human being has intrinsic value presently or in the future. Killing them removes this value from both local society and that of the world, and that value cannot be returned."

"That philosophy is interesting, but childish," argued the Outsider. "I tell you now doctor, I can count on both hands how many humans have had a large enough influence to even make an impact past a millennium. If you ask for a century, it expands to about several dozen. Most people are akin to sheep in a herd, insignificant."

"Is a brick at the top of the building superior to those that form the base?" asked Nikon. "Perhaps your vision is narrow in scope, Outsider. Perhaps someone like Anton Sokolov is easily this age's magnum opus, but what of his family, his friends, his acquaintances? Surely, they influenced him, made him the magnificent man he would become, but they will be forgotten. Their names will not be spoken with awe, but their marks on him remain regardless. That is what I mean when I saw humans have value, often in ways so small you can hardly see them."

"…I did not consider that," admitted the Outsider. "That is…a very interesting point of view. While I ponder a rebuttal though, I come bearing gifts. First, one that will help you find more of my marks to aid you."

He twirled his hand and suddenly the rune in Nikon's hand transformed, growing pink flesh and gaining mass rapidly.

Nikon stared in horror as the object became like a sphere, rapidly pulsating with some profane rhythm. Metal pipes and other bits spewed from it and wrapped back around in arcane patterns, forming like veins across it, and that made him realize what he was holding.

"It's…a heart," whispered the doctor revolted. He could not let it go though, his hand refusing to drop the object in disgust.

"Yes, one of…let's say someone important to you," stated the Outsider. "It will let you hear the whispers of my marks, and make it easier to find them so I may give you new gifts. The second gift, however, is for every other whisper."

He snapped his fingers, and Nikon groaned as his head filled with noise. He heard scratching noises and footsteps, and conversations that sounded so distant he could scarce determine the voices. It overwhelmed his mind, until finally coming into focus.

"It is called Eavesdrop," explained the Outsider. "It will allow you hear things distant from you, as well as through objects. You will find it useful in the road ahead."

Nikon looked back at the heart, before giving it a squeeze. It beat back, pumping no blood through its metal veins.

"It's so cold here," came a voice as if from his own mind, so small he barely heard it. The voice sounded similar to himself, but older, and resembled a certain watchmaker from 451 Red Crow Street.

"Oh gods," whispered Nikon covering his mouth. "Is it…him?"

He looked up, but the Outsider had left, leaving him alone in Ms. Sasha's house. He looked back at the heart in his hands, noting how it held no weight in this world, as if it did not even exist, but he knew it existed. He remembered hearing it beat before, hearing it stop on a fateful night where he killed a man for thirty-seven coins.

"…gods above…I'm so sorry," murmured the doctor mournfully. "I…I never meant…"

He gulped hard. Apologizing to the deceased was pointless. He had to maintain focus and vigilance. Diana's life, as well as that of one of his saviors, was in his hands.

He tucked the heart away, waving his hand experimentally. He found he could turn off Eavesdrop, as the Outsider had labeled it, with a flick of his fingers, and decided to keep it off for now. The flood of information was disorienting, and hardly beneficial.

"Well, I suppose it's time to get to work," he whispered, closing his eyes, already visualizing his next steps.


	6. Chapter 6: Love

Nikon stepped on a rat corpse and grunted, glancing down at the disgusting mound of fur and fat clinging to his boot.

"Shit," grunted the doctor, scraping the bits of the corpse across the stones beneath his feet.

Once he was sure his boot was relatively clean, he kept up his slow pace down the sewer tunnel. Every few feet he'd activate Eavesdrop, listening in to the various noises in the street above him. He could clearly hear conversations through almost ten feet of concrete, the rushing of water through pipes, even the sizzling of food in distant apartments. He began to hear other things as well, the murmurs of the rats and the caws of the crows that seemed to come out at night, and even further, almost to the point of inaudibility, were the whispers of the Outsider's gifts, tempting him with occult power.

"Focus," he told himself, hiding in a small alcove in the wall unconsciously. "If I find one of those trinkets again, I'll take it, but I won't look for them. I have more important things to do."

He paused as he heard his first guard, stopping dead in the shadows.

The guard was about twenty feet away and down two bends in the sewer, as he could tell from the distortion of the sound on the walls. He was sitting on an old rickety wooden chair, each squeak as clear to him as if shouted, and he was holding a sword that he was scratching against the ground.

"Is he facing me…?" questioned the doctor. "…no. The scratching of the sword is further away than the squeaks of the chair. He's facing away from me."

He moved closer, this time far slower, eventually reaching a spot where he could see the guard. The guard was indeed facing away from him, and seemed to be tracing his sword along the ground in circles.

"…have to be quiet," he murmured tapping his chin. "Choke-hold? Don't know how to do that really. Bash him over the head? Too loud, and potential brain damage."

He noticed a small closet nearby, and quickly ducked inside. It was completely empty save for a few rats, most of the interior consisting of metal piping along the walls.

"Could tie him up in here," he mused aloud. "Once I'm inside I'll have to think of something else, but this'll do for this guy."

He grabbed the coil of rope he had brought, cutting two sections of rope about a meter and a half in length. He tucked them into his pocket, drawing his sword.

The guard was whistling a small tune to himself when he felt cold steel on his neck, immediately stopping.

"Drop it," ordered Nikon in a tone that offered no argument.

The guard did so.

"Stand up, then drop your gun."

The guard nodded, slowly rising from his seat and unfastening his pistol from his belt. It hit the ground, making far too much noise for Nikon's liking.

The doctor grabbed him by the collar. "We're walking backwards. You try anything, you'll end up breathing through your throat."

The guard nodded. "Got it, got it."

"No talking," ordered Nikon.

Then he smashed his sword hilt into the back of the guard's head, sending him reeling forward.

The guard whirled around, flashing a dagger he had snuck into his grip. The blade whistled as it passed over Nikon's nose, the doctor taking a step backwards before lunging with the hilt of his sword again, slamming it into his nose.

The guard roared in pain as his nose shattered, blood pouring down his face. Nikon savagely kicked him in the groin, the guard collapsing to the floor and weakly trying to breathe.

The doctor grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the closet, the guard in too much pain to fight back. He propped him against the wall, again slamming his foot into the guard's chest.

"Stand still or I cave in your ribs," commanded Nikon sternly. He tied the guard's hands together then over his head onto a pipe, tying his legs together as well. Once that was done, he sighed, looking down at his bleeding, bruised handiwork.

"Well, at least you're alive," stated the doctor.

Then he swung the sword hilt right into his face, knocking him out cold.

Nikon left him there, tying the inward-swinging door knob to another nearby pipe to make it harder to pull open, before walking off.

As he got further down the tunnel, he encountered a trio of guards standing around a barrel, a small fire burning in the center. He stopped right out of their line of vision, analyzing the situation.

"…why that section?" he murmured to himself. "The door's not anywhere close by, so why stand guard there?"

Then he saw it. Just above their heads, amongst a series of wooden boards, was a hole. It seemed to disappear into the dark, but the direction it was headed in confirmed it. That hole lead into the building.

"A secret exit? Hmm. That'll do."

He debated on how to get past three guards. Unlike before, he could not hope to take them on.

He grabbed one of the blightpowder grenades Kallisar had given him. Let's hope they were as effective as he said.

Nikon yanked out the pin and tossed it at the trio's feet.

The three men looked down sharply, the grenade ticking pleasantly between them.

"Shit…!" shouted one of them before the grenade detonated.

Immediately a wave of noxious green gas spewed from the explosive, flooding the tunnel they were standing in. The trio coughed and desperately fought to breathe, collapsing to the floor. In a matter of seconds, they lay still.

Nikon quickly checked their vitals, moving their bodies to make sure they did not suffocate in their slumber. Kallisar had assured him the gas would keep a person unconscious for hours, and so he was not worried about tying them. He would be gone by the time they woke.

The doctor peered into the hole, darkness meeting him. He grunted.

"I could hazard a light," he decided. If there wasn't any light, then that meant they didn't expect anyone to be down here anyway.

He wrapped a bit of one of the guard's clothes over an iron rod and lit the end on fire, making an impromptu torch. He climbed into the hole.

Immediately he saw the cot in the room and the iron bars on the door. He was in a jail cell of some kind.

In a slight panic, he checked the door, noticing it moved. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Nerves," he grunted.

He studied the room closer, trying to determine who the former denizen had been. Judging by the claw marks on the wall near the hole, they had fashioned the hole themselves. It must've been recent too, as they guards hadn't even had time to patch up the hole yet.

He paused when he noticed something under the mattress of the cot. He lifted it, noticing it was a piece of paper, hurriedly scribbled over in what looked like black coal or dirt. His eyes widened when he read what was there.

 _Doctor_

 _Unsure you find letter. Writing anyway._

 _Being taken to Matteo Ricci._

 _Kalin knows but doesn't understand._

 _Love_

 _Diana_

Nikon smiled despite himself. Always so laconic in writing, though this time seemed more out of necessity than habit.

Then the message scrawled on the paper dawned on him. She was being taken away. She had told Kalin what he wanted to hear, but he did not understand it. That made sense, of course. She was a scientist, and he was a politician. Their lexicon were very distinct from the other, and she might as well have been talking to him in tongues for all he could guess.

That left Matteo Ricci, and that thought disturbed him greatly. Matteo Ricci was not a doctor or a scientist, but a businessman. Specifically, he made his money controlling the underground gambling and prostitution rings in the city.

That second word made Nikon start to shake in rage. The thought of Diana, brave intelligent Diana, reduced to the life of an abused whore made him want to bash Kalin's face in.

He calmed himself. Kalin wasn't an idiot. Diana was dangerous now, and had to be dealt with, either through murder or exile. Her appointment with Matteo could mean either.

"Okay, can't help her here," he stated finally. "I need more information."

He took one last glance at the note and saw a word he did not see the first time, or at least did not process fully.

Love.

He blushed. Did that…did she…? No, that was preposterous. It was deliberate, a common farewell people attached to letters. Nothing more.

He put the note down, deciding that he had more important things to deal with.

"First things first, let's find Anna Morozov. I have to make sure she surrenders willingly."


End file.
